Disclaimer: All people and places belong to J. K. Rowling.
Life Had Just Begun
By Terra
Chapter Thirteen: Looking Glass
"Now, children, stay together as we go through the factory," the tour guide said sweetly as she led the large group of young pureblood children. "There is a lot of dangerous magic at work and we don't want anyone hurt."
The group of six-year-olds shuffled behind her, looking at the large machines churning and whirring. I smiled as we were led through the pathway between the large grunting machines.
"Don't crane your neck too far," Lucius mocked, "might fall right off." The nearby children chortled with delight. Their favorite pastime was tormenting me. Even though my general health had improved, I still missed large lumps of days with the group tutor. On such days, my parents had to pay extra for a private session. The purebloods thought this was an excellent reason to tease me and exclude me. They knew I was weaker from my bouts of ill health and the parents constantly spoke about me being "delicate", which usually made the children squeal with glee. Especially since I couldn't really fight back.
But today was different. I wasn't sick today and I wasn't sick yesterday, I thought. Today was a fun day. Today, the tutor had brought us to a clothing factory and we were going to see how our robes are made. I though that was the neatest thing ever.
"Do you think they'll let us make something?" I asked excitedly.
"Well," Narcissa drawled, "if you make something, I'm not touching it. It'll probably be all gross with your fleas!" At this, she and the surrounding children promptly covered their mouths and noses and held their breaths.
"I don't have fleas!" I protested.
"I've got the jabs," Narcissa sang loudly, using her thumb to poke herself on the forearm. The other children began doing this as well.
"Children! Please keep up the rest of the group!" The tour guide called, warbling like a songbird. The children giggled and ran to catch up the chattering children ahead. "No running please!"
I sighed sadly as I clung to the back of the mob. I want a friend, I thought. I smiled sadly up the machines. But today is a happy day, I reminded myself, so I'll be happy because this is fun.
To my right was a little staircase with a hand rail leading up to a little metal door in the wall. What's in there? I asked myself. I shuffled over to the staircase as the group turned a corner, walking out of sight. The door was labeled with big red letters. But the words were way too big! I read aloud: "Re... strict... ed Area. Au... thor... Author... ized... Person... nel Only. What do these words mean?" I looked around for an adult to translate the big adult words into easier, smaller words that I could understand. There was no one in sight. "Well, someone gotta be in this room. I'll ask them." A much older voice in my head remarked, "Ah, this is where I first saw an Invisibility Cloak!" I paused. "Huh?" The voice didn't return so I shrugged and opened the door.
There were threads everywhere. They were hanging off the ceiling, popping out of the walls, weaving and binding together, moving across the room like fishing lines. There were so many colours: reds, blues, greens, blacks, yellows, and some colours that didn't even exist! Giggling, I watched mystified as the threads zoomed past my face. One splendid gold one caught my attention. I reached out to grab it when a voice remarked cheerfully, "That's one of my favorites too!"
I turned towards the source of the voice and discovered a work table that I had not noticed before. All the threads met at this table and were winding on wooden spools on the farthest side from me. Sitting at the table were three figures. The one closest was a young boy, not older than me, with bright, pale blue eyes and black hair. Next to him was an older man, about thirty years old, with brown hair and grey eyes. Next to him was a hooded figure. His face was completely hidden and his right hand was made of silver.
"Who're you?" I asked, coming over and managing not to trip over the threads zooming around my feet.
"We're the Fates! We work here, don't we, Present?"
The man with the brown hair nodded. "That's right, Past."
"Is he," I asked, pointing at the hooded man, "Future?"
"Yup," Past said with a smile, "but don't bother asking him questions. Doesn't say a word."
"What are you doing?" I inquired.
"Well, I'm making sure that the threads come in on time," Past explained, arranging the aforementioned threads as he spoke, "Present keeps them straight, and Future cuts the thread when there's enough on the spool and throws them in the boxes." Past pointed behind him where a large rolling conveyor belt had boxes on it. The belt led up a large box-shaped hole in the wall labeled, "Deliveries".
"Where do the threads go?"
Past frowned in thought, then asked Present, "Where do all the threads go?"
"I don't know," Present replied. The two looked at Future who slowly looked up. With his silver hand, he pointed at the hole in the wall.
"We know that!" Past exclaimed. "After that!"
Future scoffed and turned his attention back to the threads spinning past him.
"Apologize," Present ordered softly.
"He never says anything! Why can't he just answer?" Past asked bitterly. "He's always screwing up and stuff too! Keeps cutting the threads before the spools are done."
"That's because you're so distracting, Past," Present scolded, "if you made less noise, you wouldn't startle him so."
I watched the threads spin on their little spools and the trio gently run their hands over the threads, keeping them straight. Soon enough, Future grabbed a large pair of clippers in his normal hand and his head moved left and right as if he was trying to read something on the threads.
He opened the clippers near the golden one I liked. I gasped. "Don't worry," Past said, calmly, "He does that all the time. He won't cut it." And he was right because Future merely nipped it slightly in a number of places as it passed. "Told ya." Suddenly, two of the threads had fibers jump off the main thread and twirl together, making a brand-new thread. "Oh, that one is nice! I like this one, it's my new favorite!"
The new thread sped towards its little spool as Past praised it. I noticed that the gold thread I had noticed before was near a red thread. Fibers from these threads had presumably jumped off earlier because a red-gold thread spun nearby. "I like this one," I told Past, pointing to the red-gold thread.
"I like that one too. But I like this one," Past said, pointing to the new thread, which was blue and yellow, "better. But that's just as nice."
Future took up his clippers again and intently watched the threads again. He drew his tool towards the blue-yellow thread and cleanly snipped it. Future ripped the spool off its stand and threw it behind him into a box, which magically rolled down the belt. Another empty spool rose up from a hidden location and a thread sped towards it. Past groaned. "He cut it! I liked that one! It wasn't even ready yet!"
"Now, now, Past," Present said soothingly, "there's little we can do. Future decides when a spool is ready or not."
"It wasn't ready at all!"
"Just hush."
Past frowned deeply but soon recovered. "I still got my other favorites. And their threads are long. Mess up the system if he snipped them, wouldn't it?"
"Just don't startle him," Present warned.
"I don't startle him! He just screws up on his own!"
Future turned his head sharply towards Past and grunted harshly.
"Apologize," Present sighed.
"So-rry," Past sang in a voice that clearly said he wasn't.
Future took up his clippers again and snipped a few other threads but apparently Past had no attachment to these ones since he barely noticed as Future flung them behind him. Later on, Future's clippers went towards the gold thread but I was not afraid; he hadn't clipped it the last time. He drew close and the blades hovered over the gold thread zooming past. Finally, he closed the jaws and the thread was in two.
Past screamed in horror. Future moved towards the red thread and snipped that one as well. Past screamed louder, crying for him to stop. He went towards the red-gold thread and closed the clippers but the thread didn't break. Future gave a grunt and tried again. Still, the thread continued to plod along. Again and again, Future frantically snipped at the thread but it was like iron and refused to be cut. He thrust out his silver hand to grab hold in order to stop the thread from moving but it just sped faster through his fingers as he tried in vain to cut it.
But Past just kept crying over his threads. "You cut two of my favorites! You always cut the ones I like! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"
*** ***
It was a beautiful summer night. The wind blew softly and the full moon glowed benignly in the star-scattered sky. There was a lovely little house. The sides were white and shone under the moon's rays. The little clear window had a little window box with summer flowers blooming. The Dutch door was painted a light blue with tiny flowers stenciled into the finish. The top door was open and the light shone from inside. The WWN was on and its soft melodies floated outside.
A young brown-haired woman sat on the stoop outside the Dutch door, watching her little toddler, running about the picket gate-enclosed yard, catching fireflies and letting them go. The fireflies floated about the couple's heads and winked in and out of visible sight, looking like stars hanging low above the earth. The little boy squealed with delight.
"I wanna glow too!" the boy remarked, half-shouting as if she was not three feet away.
"Oh, you do, Remus," the woman replied. "Do you want to visit your auntie tomorrow?"
"Yeah! I wanna go!"
"Auntie wants a picnic. What should we bring, Remus?"
"Fireflies!"
The woman laughed. "Remus, dear, we can't eat fireflies. Besides, we would go during the daytime. They won't be out anymore."
"I could catch 'em," Remus replied, "Like little fishies!"
"We still can't eat them, dear."
"Why not?"
"It's not good for you," the woman answered, putting her chin in her hand.
"We can't eat forks," Remus responded after a second or so of thought.
"No, we can't."
"But we bring forks, don't we?"
"Not to eat, dear!" The woman chuckled. "Oh, you have some ideas."
"Can I have a firefly as a pet?"
"No, dear, you can't."
"Why not?"
"Because it won't live very long."
Remus looked crestfallen. "Why not?"
"I don't know, dear."
"Where do they go in the daytime?"
"Back home, I guess."
"Where is their houses?"
"I don't know, dear. Since we can't bring fireflies, is there anything else you want?"
"A pony."
"We can't eat a pony!"
"I don't wanna eat one, I just want one!"
"I meant what do you want to eat?"
"Um... cake."
"What sort of cake?"
"Christmas cake!"
"Remus," the woman replied with a happy sigh, "it's not Christmas yet. How about a nice store-bought cake with yummy frosting?"
"Yay! Cake!" Remus cheered and went back to catching fireflies in his hand.
I smiled at the sight. I went over to the woman and said, "Your kid is cute." She didn't answer me, just smiled at her son. "Is his name Remus?" No reply. "Can you hear me?" I waved my hand in front of her hand but she seemed not to notice. Perplexed, I tried to tap her on the arm but my hand went clean through. "Am I a ghost?"
"Marcia!" a man's voice called from inside.
"What, Billie?" she called back, sounding a touch annoyed at having her time with her son interrupted.
"Your mother is on the fire! She wants to talk to you!"
She rolled her eyes but said sweetly, "Remus!"
"Yeah?"
"Mummy has to go talk to Gran! Just stay there!" She got up to enter the house but paused and turned around to face her son again, shaking a finger, "And no going outside the gate. Stay here. Mummy will be back."
" 'Kay!" Remus replied but clearly wasn't really listening.
She sighed and let herself in. I could hear her begin her conversation with her mother as someone, presumably Billie, started to arrange dishes in the kitchen. Remus continued to play among the fireflies but the fireflies seemed to be bored with his yard. Slowly, the majority of the flies started to drift outside the enclosed area.
As all toddlers do, he ignored his mother's advice and opened the gate to follow them outside the area. Remus giggled as he continued to catch and release the bugs as they flew farther and farther away from his house. He was at the edge of a large wood and more fireflies were gathered near the trees.
"Remus!" I called, walking up to him, "it's dangerous here!"
Remus ignored me and continued to twirl around under the dancing lights, perfectly content. However, I noticed that something, a big something, was moving within the trees. It moved slowly, hunting out its prey almost silently. Only the tiny snap of twigs and heavy panting gave it away. Remus didn't seem to notice the odd noises coming towards him; he continued to laugh and prance around. I tried in vain to catch Remus' attention but he couldn't hear me; no one could.
The thing in the wood inched forward and I could finally make out its shape. The moonlight filtered through the trees and glittered on silver fur. The legs were muscular and looked extremely powerful with long, sharp claws. It looked like a wolf except it was much larger and its snout was shorter. It bared its teeth and I gasped. They were long and pointed, covered with slime dripping on to the ground. Its yellow eyes glowed in the half-light like two immensely gigantic fireflies. "Werewolf," I whispered in terror.
It growled softly and finally, Remus stopped. The werewolf inched forward and panted heavily. Remus turned around and looked into its burning eyes. The werewolf poised itself for a lunge. Remus blinked in surprise. "Run away!" I screamed but of course, Remus didn't hear me.
Remus carefully put his hand out in front of him, in order to pet the creature. The werewolf growled, baring its numerous teeth. "Woof-woof?" Remus asked simply.
With a terrifying, strangely feline shriek, it flew into the air and opened its impressive jaws and went straight for Remus' little throat.
*** ***
A small boy with black hair and pale blue eyes lay on his stomach in a large sitting room. It was richly furnished with high-quality couches and chairs. The mantle had pictures in gold frames: a couple in wedding fare, two sisters sitting hand-in-hand, a young teenager reading a book intently, a mother holding an infant child in her arms, a father holding the same child, and a young child smiling and waving at the viewer. Certificates of accomplishment hung on the walls, one labeled "Head Girl" among others, beside great works of artwork. In the room, there were items of precious value: vases, statuettes, and stonework. There was a long mirror over the fireplace and the mantle. A cheery fire roared in the fireplace, warming the little boy's stocking feet. A glass door led an indoor glass patio, which contained lounging chairs made of bamboo and cloth. An empty space with no door showed a fine dining room.
The little boy, who appeared to be around four or five years old, was working on an elementary puzzle. I walked over to sit on the couch to watch him. The puzzle looked like it was supposed to be a picture of cats playing with a ball of string but he was only half completed. "Hi," I greeted. He ignored me. "Great. I'm invisible again," I muttered.
Suddenly, there was the great bang of a door slamming. It sounded like it bounced off its jam and slammed again into a wall. Heavy pounding was coming down hidden stairs. Even heavier pounding followed it closely.
"Don't you dare walk out on me, Janet!" An angry man's voice shouted.
"You have no right to tell me what I can and can not do, Roger!" A furious woman's voice replied. Finally, a pretty, tall woman in her early twenties with brown hair and pale blue eyes like the little boy swept into the entrance between the sitting room and the dining room. Her hair was done in a bun that coming undone and she was dressed in dark purple robes with silver flowers embroidered on it. Breathing heavily, she stormed into the dining room and out of sight. Immediately after came a handsome, tall man also in his early twenties with black hair and pale grey eyes. His hair was cut very short and he was wearing a dark brown robe. "Janet!" he hollered. "Where the hell are you, Janet?!"
Janet stormed back in carrying clothes in her arms. "What?!"
"What are those for?" Roger demanded.
"For wearing, you dumb idiot!" Janet screamed back even though they were practically nose to nose.
"Wearing them where, pray tell?!"
"Not here, that's where!" With that, she flew back upstairs. Roger ran after her. I could hear sounds of closets, cabinets, and shelves of dressers being thrown open or falling on to the floor.
"What are you doing with those?!" Roger demanded from upstairs. Janet didn't answer. Soon, she ran back downstairs. She had hard suitcases in her hand, which she threw on the floor. She flew into the dining room and out of sight again. Roger seemed to have cut her off because he hollered from a direction that sounded like he was on the lower floor again, "What are you doing?!"
"Leaving you, that's what I'm doing! I'm sick and tired of you and your moods! I don't need it and neither does Sirius!"
"You can't take Sirius away from me!"
"I can and I will!" Janet had reappeared into our view of sight now armed with a purse. Sirius was ignoring them, working intently on his puzzle, humming loudly although not as loud as his parents. Roger appeared soon after, practically running into her.
"He's my son! You can't just take him away from me!" Roger pleaded.
"He's my son too, Roger! And, if my memory serves, I was the one that actually gave birth to him, not you! He's more my son than yours!"
"You can't take him! I'll go mad! He's the thing that keeps me going!"
Janet laughed harshly. "You'll go mad?! Hell, you're already there! Whether or not Sirius is with you is hardly going to make a difference!"
"Please, I love him..." Roger begged.
"Oh, good for you!" Janet screamed sarcastically, "If you really love him, then don't throw him around!"
"He was having fun!"
"He nearly cracked his head open because of your strength! You're uncontrollable! You'll end up killing him! Keeping him away from you is the best thing I can do for him!"
"I love him... I can't control myself... please... understand..." Roger was beginning to cry.
"I'm sick of understanding! I'm sick of having to make Sirius feel better because you're having a 'bad' mood and you scream in his face! Sirius shouldn't have to put up with that! I don't have to put up with that! I'm leaving!"
"Don't take him away, Janet, I don't mean to hurt him... I don't want to hurt you... please, stay... we'll talk..."
"No! No more talking! Roger, let's just face it! You're a psychopath! People like you go to insane asylums and weave baskets all day!"
"Oh, look who's talking! I'm not the one with the retarded sister!"
Janet turned a violent purple colour and swept over to a vase. "How dare you!" She threw the vase at her husband, which he narrowly missed. "How dare you insult my sister!" She threw another vase at him and he barely ducked. "She was kidnapped and tortured! She was a beautiful, highly advanced baby and he ruined her!" She threw another vase at him, which he again avoided. "You're just a regular, run-of-the-mill psychotic! You need a lobotomy! A lobotomy, you hear me?!" With a cry of rage, she chucked a piece of stonework at him to which he ducked.
Roger appeared to be crying again. "Janet! I didn't mean that! I couldn't control myself! It just flew out! Please, just don't leave! I need you! I need Sirius!"
"I don't care! I'm leaving and that's it! You need serious help and I'm sick of cleaning your messes! Good-bye, Roger!" Just before she grabbed the suitcases, Sirius looked up and interrupted cheerfully, "Look! Mummy, Daddy, I did the kitty part of the puzzle!"
It was as if they had both been hit by an invisible force. They looked at their son like they didn't know who he was. Janet looked at Roger the same instant he looked at her. Finally, turning back to her child, she said very softly and sweetly, "That's good. Did you do it all today?"
"Yuh-huh!"
"You're so clever. You're my little clever boy, aren't you, Sirius? You're my little star, my little shining star."
"You're like your mummy," Roger replied, almost out of breath as if he had run a great distance. "Your mummy was very smart. Your mummy was Head Girl."
"Are you going to leave Daddy, Mummy?" Sirius asked. Janet's legs could no longer support her and she fell to her knees. She crept towards her son and replied with a big fake smile, "No, I'm not going to leave."
"But you said you were."
"I was just very upset. I didn't mean it."
"Like Daddy sometimes?"
"Yeah, like Daddy says things he doesn't really mean. Sometimes, grown-ups do things they don't mean."
"Oh," Sirius replied. "Because leaving Daddy would make me sad. I love Daddy. I love Mummy too. I want to stay together forever and ever."
"That's right," Roger said, coming over to crouch near Sirius. "We will stay together. Because you're here and you come from our love."
"We'll stay together because you were born to us. You're very important to us," Janet added, tears coming to her eyes.
"And I'm going to make it better. We're all going to make this better. I'm going to get some help. Mummy and I will get someone to help us. We'll fix this. It's going to okay from now on. Just be happy, okay? If you're happy, then everything will turn out better than before."
"I'll be happy," Sirius answered.
Janet hugged him, breathing heavily to fight back her tears. "Yes, you will. You're our little star, our good little boy. You'll save us, you'll be the key, little star."
*** ***
I was in a store that sold hats. But I needed socks! There were no socks, I needed socks, damn it! Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I whirled around. It was Remus and he was wearing an... owl on his head?
"Remus!"
"Do you like my hat?" Remus asked cheerfully.
"There's a snowy owl on your head."
"It's a Hedwig Hat! Isn't it the most groovy thing you've ever seen?"
"It looks like the owl is engulfing your head."
"I love my Hedwig Hat! You should buy one!"
"But I need socks!"
"No, you have to buy a Hedwig Hat!"
"But I need socks, man! Socks!"
"Wear my Hedwig Hat!"
Remus took off the Hedwig Hat and started placing it on my head but I screamed, "No! I need socks! No hats! No hats!"
*** ***
I'm not lonely. I simply chose to sit in the Malfoy Manor Library, reading an old book that has begun to decay. I'm not being left out or ignored or anything. I like the quiet. Really, I do. Well, not just quiet. There're certain types of quiet I don't like. But self-imposed quiet is best. Self-imposed quiet in the grand room on the carpet with a book that has pages falling out. That's alright. I don't need friends because I got a book that no one remembers reading or even buying. The pages fall out as I turn the pages, like dead leaves from a tree. That's what I kept telling myself.
A shadow fell across the page and I could hear someone breathing above my head. I turned my face up and adjusted my glasses on my nose.
"James, still here?" Lucius asked with a big grin.
"Yeah, I was just reading and..."
"Bet you're bored. That book's ancient."
"But it's really inter..."
"Books are boring," Lucius interrupted, rolling his eyes, "I only read when I have to. Anyway, since you're not doing anything interesting, I came to ask if you wanted to do something really, really fun."
"Lucius," I answered softly, "the last time you made that offer, I got hurt and I had to get my bones mended. I'd rather read."
"Oh, you're no fun, James. I made this effort to run down here so you could have a bit of fun and now you won't! I could've just left you here, you know. By yourself. With a stupid book."
"But your games aren't fun for me. I get hurt."
"You won't this time. This is really fun. The rest of us have been doing this for over an hour now." I didn't say anything. Lucius rolled his eyes. "Why do I even try? Fine, be that way. Stay bored, I'm leaving." He crossed his arms and began to shuffle out. I frowned. I wanted to play with someone. I was tired of reading and I didn't want to go listen to the adults prattle on about nonsense.
"Okay," I said slowly. "But it better be fun."
"Great!" Lucius said without turning around. I got up and followed him out. We went to the kitchen with its four ovens embedded in the walls. The entire child population of purebloods had gathered around one vacant oven. Upon seeing my arrival, they clapped and cheered.
"See? They want you to play," Lucius responded smugly. I weakly smiled. Maybe this was going to be fun.
"What's the game?" I asked.
"Oh, it's not really a game... it's more like a toy... like a slide or something."
"Oh. What's the toy?"
Lucius walked forward and patted the oven that the children were clustered around. "This."
"That's an oven," I answered, feeling angry. "Not a toy."
"If I say it's a toy, then it's a toy, James!"
"You cook things in ovens. It's too heavy, how could we play anything with it?"
"Can you lift a slide?"
"Well, no..."
"Then a slide is not a toy?"
"No, but..."
"Then the oven is a toy."
"But you cook stuff in ovens!"
"So? It's still a toy."
"How can we play with an oven?" I demanded, crossing my arms. This was looking suspicious.
"Simple," Lucius drawled, happy that he had won the argument. "Get in."
"Get in? The oven?"
"Yeah, in the oven, didn't you hear me?"
"It'll be hot!"
"It's not on, stupid!" Narcissa snapped. "This is not hard or anything."
"Food goes in ovens!" I exclaimed.
"Just get in and you'll see. It's fun!" Jeremiah Parkinson answered.
All the children clamored for me to step inside the oven. But I shook my head.
Lucius rolled his eyes again. "You're such a baby, James. Little delicate baby James is scared of an oven!"
At this, the children mocked me and waggled their outstretched tongues at me. "I'm not scared! This is just dumb!" I hollered.
"Scared little baby!" Lucius cat-called.
"Am not!"
"Are too!"
"Am not!"
"Prove it, you baby! Get in!" With a grunt, he flung the door open and stepped aside. With my head held high, I stepped forward and crawled into the oven. I turned around so my face could be seen in the opening. I stuck my tongue out at them. Before I knew what was happening, Lucius slammed the door in my face.
I jumped but luckily I made no noise. It was very dark inside the oven and the air was stuffy. It smelled like charcoal and burnt wood and ashes. Soot quickly covered my hands. "Ew..." I said upon inspection. "I got dust on me."
"You're worried about dust?" Lucius' voice replied, astonished.
"It's dirty in here," I answered harshly. "Can I come out now? This is really boring." There was a sharp click and muffled giggles. "I heard something."
"What? Grindelwald's ghost in there?" Narcissa asked, laughing.
"No," I sneered slowly. "I'm coming out." I pushed against the door but it wouldn't budge. I pushed harder but the door stayed firmly in its spot. "Lucius, help me open the door, please."
"Can't. It's locked," Lucius' voice answered in a bored tone.
"Well, unlock it! I don't want to be here all night!" I banged against the door which shuddered but did not open.
More giggles. "Well, I'll try to make this interesting if you're stuck." Before I could say that I didn't care about being bored anymore, I felt a pricking of intense heat on my knees. I screamed. The children giggled harder. I looked down to see why I had felt hot. At that moment, a shot of orange flame flared up and I felt the intense burning again. I screamed louder than before.
"Stop it! Unlock the door!" I started to beat against the door again as the children outside laughed.
"Well," Lucius' voice said calmly, "let me see..."
I felt heat again but it was now from above. Jets of fire flared from the ceiling of my little torture chamber. I managed to duck in time but I howled with terror. The children laughed and clapped with utmost delight.
For completely unbearably long minutes, Lucius played with the dials that controlled the flames in the oven. Throughout this ordeal, I cried profusely and begged to be let go as the children chortled with delight.
Finally, there was a drumming of footsteps and a rough, "Lucius! Get away from there!" and the door was opened. Nero Malfoy and Franklin Parkinson's faces poked in, utterly bewildered. I cried big wet tears as Malfoy turned to face behind him to say, "It's James."
My mother gently pushed the men aside and held her hands out. I jumped into her arms, sobbing into her robes. "James, what were you doing in there?"
Malfoy turned to his son and demanded, "What were you doing?"
"It was all James' idea, Father," he answered with big innocent eyes. Lucius continued, "We were all wondering what happens when food goes into the ovens and James suggested the idea of going in himself and seeing."
"It's twue, Misther Malfoy," Yvonne Zabini lisped in Lucius' defense.
"We just wanted to know." Narcissa then responded with a slight frown, "Are we in trouble, Mister Malfoy?" She looked up at the adults with her cute big eyes. "We didn't know James would be so upset."
Parkinson sighed, "Nero, old friend, they're just children. They don't know better."
Mrs. Zabini nodded and commented, "They were just curious, the dears. Inquisitive little ladies and gentlemen. They meant no harm."
"Lucius," Nero said sternly, "what have we learned today?"
"Don't put people in ovens?" Lucius replied.
"And why not?"
"Because they'll cry?"
"Because ovens are hot and dangerous. Only adults can use the ovens, not little children. I don't want you near those ovens again. Am I making myself clear, young man? Do the rest of you understand?"
"Yes, sir," the children chorused except me who was still crying.
"For goodness sakes!" Mrs. Malfoy scowled, "Clean up your son, will you? He can't come to dinner like that."
"Come, James," my mother said, clearly disappointed in my apparent lack of judgment, "you're filthy."
As she led me to the bathroom, I said, sniffling, "I didn't want to."
"James, it's okay to make mistakes. Just don't do that again, scared me half to death."
"It wasn't my idea."
"James, it's alright. I'm not going to punish you. I forgive you."
I sniffled. No one ever believes me, I thought.
*** ***
It was a lovely early autumn's day. The leaves were starting to change colour and the nippy breeze shuffled through the branches. A few fluttered down, dancing through the air.
There was a brick school next to the playground. Children dashed to and fro, laughing. The little boys played sports and tag, screaming and hollering as their breath steamed.
Except for one. One little boy sat under a large scrawny tree staring at the children playing. They didn't notice the boy, no one even glanced at him sitting there. He was wearing a brown coat that was much too large and obviously second-hand. There was a plaid hat next to him but he kept his ugly lima bean-green scarf and mustard-yellow mittens (which I could only see the tips off) on.
Perhaps the sitting out was part of one of the games? But with a quick glance I could tell that no other boy was sitting by himself. The boy was obviously being left out. With a sigh, noticing absently that I couldn't even see my breath, I walked towards the lonesome fellow under the tree.
He had untidy black hair that sprung up in tuffs. He appeared to be very thin and his oversized coat was not helping matters. His eyes were closed when I approached but I saw that he was wearing glasses with the nose bridge held together by what appeared to be clear Spellotape. The wind brushed the fringes away from his forehead and I saw a clear scar shaped like a lightning bolt.
The boy sighed, his steam escaped like a huge cloud and he opened his eyes and looked up in my direction. I knew he couldn't see me because he seemed to be looking right through me at the sky. My breath caught in my throat.
Those eyes. They were like emeralds, like sunshine raining down between summer leaves, like grass. Like Lily's. Hundreds, thousands of times I had gazed into those very orbs and I would know them anywhere. I felt my hair and examined my bone structure. My black hair felt untidy and sprung up in tuffs and I was very thin. I also wore glasses.
I couldn't help but smile. "Merlin! He's my son! He has her wonderful, beautiful eyes. Oh, I wish you could see me or hear me. I want to know everything!"
But then I did a double-take. His eyes were like Lily's, true, but while hers shone with a light filled with hope and promise, his were shuttered and sad. Not the sadness that one experiences when a friend is sick one day but the sadness that runs deep to the core of one's being. I was looking into the eyes of someone who never laughed or played and faced constant misery and disappointment every hour of every day of every year. I glanced again at the clothes he was wearing. This child experienced no love. I looked again, maybe I had made a mistake. But the harder I looked, the more he resembled Lily or myself in the reflection in the puddle.
He was my son but why was he so sad? This wasn't right. Where was I? Where was Lily? Why is he around Muggles, I wondered as I noticed that not one of those children was playing any magical games. I felt compelled to hug him, ask him to ask for anything and it would be done but I knew it would be no use.
"Harry!" Someone called. The boy reacted and looked around to see who was calling him.
"Harry?" I repeated, "is that his name?"
Three boys came running over, panting hard. The one in front was massive. It reminded me of a human shaped cream puff in a coat and scarf. He was blond and had a round, fat face. His two friends were dwarfed beside him but otherwise were unremarkable.
"What is it, Dudley?" Harry asked, looking surprised.
"Headmistress sent us to deliver a message."
"I didn't do it."
"Nah, you're not in trouble this time, Potter," one of the friends replied. The other snickered but he was promptly elbowed. "Tell 'im, Dudley."
"Your parents are here to see you."
Harry's face momentarily lit up but quickly fell. "My parents are dead," he spat, "I'm not stupid."
My heart stopped beating. Dead? We're dead?
"That's what we thought but turns out they're not. They were in..."
"Hospital," the snickering friend supplied. "Memory loss."
"Right," Dudley grunted. "They want to take you home and everything."
Harry blinked. "Really?" he stammered.
"Really."
"They're really here? At school and everything?"
"Yup."
"And they're going to take me... back home? With them? To their house?"
"No," Dudley drawled, "they're taking you back to our house. Wanted a spin. Yes, stupid, their house."
Our house? Why does Harry live with Cream Puff?
"And I'll live with them?" Harry actually cracked a real grin.
"Yes, unless you wants us to go back and tell them 'never mind'," the first friend suggested.
Harry bolted up. "No! I'm coming! Where are they?"
"Come with us," the snickering boy responded. The four boys trotted inside. The three friends kept together in front of Harry. Harry had his hands clasped together and saying softly, "Thank you! Thank you so much! I'll be really good now! I'll be the nicest boy they could ever have! I won't cause any more accidents, I promise! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" Tears of joy were actually coming to his green eyes. My heart melted. Everything was going to be okay.
But then I glanced up the boys ahead and my heart sank. The boys were snickering, trying to muffle themselves with their hands. They reminded me of Lucius and the other pure-bloods whenever I got convinced to do something particularly stupid and get laid the blame.
"He believes us," one whispered.
"He's so dumb," the another replied.
Dudley made a motion for the two to quiet down since Harry had caught up.
Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Harry asked, "Are we going to the office? Are they waiting there?"
"No," the first friend responded slowly, "they have a... special room for you to... talk."
"Oh, right. Headmistress probably has stuff to do. So, is it close? Do they have to sign papers or anything? Or do we just leave? Is it in a classroom? Is my mum pretty? Is my dad tall? Do I look like them? Do they have scars too?"
"HARRY!" Dudley hollered, "Shut up! I'm trying to think of where to put you... I mean, where your parents are."
"Okay, just think fast!" Harry ordered excitedly. He turned to a glass display case where he was reflected. So was I but no one but myself could see it. He looked a lot like me. Why does he have to be in this horrible place? Harry attempted to fix his hair and make it lay flat but I knew it was futile effort. Besides, I thought he looked precious anyway.
One of the friends, the snickering one, made a motion like he was sweeping. The boys nodded. Dudley said, "We remember now. Come on."
"Goodie!" Harry sang, bouncing away from his reflection. "Is it close?"
"Yeah."
A corridor away, they paused in front of a broom closet. "That's it?" Harry asked excitedly as if he couldn't think of a better place for a reunion. "Are they in there? Are they waiting for me?"
"Yeah," the rat-faced friend replied, smiling, "now, cover your eyes as we open the door and just walk right in. Your parents told us to tell you that."
"Oh, okay," Harry stammered and quickly squeezed his eyes tight and clapped his hands over his glasses. The snickering boy opened the door and Dudley grabbed Harry by the shoulder gingerly as if he was diseased. He pushed him forward into the closet until he was inside. Dudley leapt out and the boys slammed the door behind Harry's back and locked it.
A minute passed in which Harry slightly mumbled, "Mum? Dad? You here? It's me, Harry, your son. You called me here. Hello?" The boys clung to each other, clamping their mouths shut to avoid laughing. Eventually, they couldn't hold it anymore and roared with laughter.
Harry finally realized that he had been tricked. He screamed wordlessly. Harry tried to turn the door knob but it was locked. The door shuddered as Harry seemed to kick it. "OPEN THIS DOOR!" The boys just laughed and laughed.
A scary old woman in a Muggle dress suit marched down the corridor. "What is this noise?" she demanded shrilly.
The boys immediately stopped laughing but before they could explain themselves, the door flew off the hinges with a loud bang, smashing it against the wall. Harry was half-panting, half-growling from fury, his teeth clenched tight. His hands were balled into little fists and his eyes were glowing from anger and grief. Harry stepped out of the closet, not noticing his audience.
"Mr. Potter!" the woman screamed and Harry jumped in surprise, looking like a snared rabbit.
"Headmistress!" Harry stammered. "I don't-don't-don't know how or why or what but the door just flew-flew-flew off and I-I-I..."
"I don't want to hear your excuses, Potter! You're going to sit in my office until your aunt and uncle arrive to pay for that door! I want you to tell them who was responsible for the damage!"
"But I... how could I...?"
"You tell me how that door flew off then! Hm? Magic?"
"No, ma'am. There's no such thing as magic."
*** ***
There was a great, white light. It was so beautiful. So pure. I was propelled towards it, my hands outstretched. If I could get to the light, I'd be okay. Everything would be better.
I felt a firm hand on my shoulder, stopping me from moving forward. I looked at my shoulder. It was my father's hand.
"Father?" I asked.
"Yes, James," he said. He was not aged like he had been in death but youthful like during my childhood. It was comforting.
"Father," I explained, "I have to go to the light."
"No, James. Don't go to the light. I won't be able to help you if you do."
"But, Father, I must. Please let me go," I pleaded.
"I can't. I won't. James, it is not your time."
"But it's calling me. It's so close," I answered. "It feels so good from here."
"You mustn't go, James. Please, listen to me."
"But, the light, Father..."
"Once you enter the light, you can't go back. When it is your time, I will gladly walk with you but not now. Not today. You must go back."
"It's horrible back there."
"Lily needs you. Go back to her. Go back to your child, James. They need you more than I. You have terrific things to do that you can not yet understand."
"What things? Father, what things must I do?"
"James, the time will come when your every breath will make a difference."
"I'm not ready. I'm only one person. I can't do this."
My father smiled at me. "You can. And you'll say the same when your son expresses such doubts."
"I don't understand."
"You will. Trust me, you will."
"Father, the light, please let me go the light," I repeated.
"No, James. You need to go back."
"Father, I have so much to say. There are things that I should have done..."
"Shh..." my father hushed me, "I know. I've heard everything. There's no need to say anything."
"Did you really die... the way he said?"
"Yes."
"Were you scared?"
"No, strangely enough. I just kept thinking of what you'd like me to do. I've taught you well."
"I'm scared."
"James, you'll find that courage when the time comes for you to need it. Don't give up. I'm on your side, James, I'm always on your side."
I hugged my father tightly, barely controlling my tears. "Why does it have to be like this?" He wrapped his arms around me tight and rubbed my back.
"I don't know but don't cry, James. I'm not sad. I haven't truly left you and I never will. I love you, James, my son."
"I love you and I miss you and I wish I could bring you back." I gulped and smiled. "And I'm proud of you, too. You kept to your values. Thank you."
"I'm glad. It's time for you to go, James. You must return."
"I want to stay with you."
"That time will come," he said soothingly. "I'll be waiting."
"I love you." Now that I could say it, I couldn't seem to stop.
"I love you, too. Good bye, James."
"Daddy?" a tiny voice near my knees asked. I drew myself from my father's embrace. I looked down at the tiny three-year-old boy with black hair, green eyes, and a lightning scar. He smiled. "Play with me."
"Go on," my father prompted.
"Play with me, Daddy," the child giggled and danced out of my reach, away from the light.
I stumbled forward towards the child. He swung forward and back with his hands clasped behind him. "Where's your mummy?" I asked.
The child looked behind him to the dark void. "There." He grinned up at me. I smiled back weakly. I looked back at my father. He was smiling at me and the child with a definite paternal air.
"Wave bye-bye, Daddy!" The child commanded cheerfully, waving his arms madly as my father waved his palm. I laughed and waved too.
"I love you, James."
"I love you, too, Father. I love you so much."
"Tag!" The child sang as he patted my leg. "You're It!" Laughing, he skipped towards the void. Feeling better than I had felt in months, I chuckled and ran after him as my father called out, "Give my love to your mother!"
"I will!" I yelled back.
Then I ran and ran, following the little child, both of us laughing the entire time. I felt like I was flying.
*** ***
My eyes snapped open.
To Be Continued...
Author's Notes: Yikes! This is long! Longer than chapter six and that was huge! Oh, right, comments. "Fleas" and "jabs" are British terms, similar to American "cooties" and "cootie shots". No song though which is a shame. Thanks to sugarquill.net for telling me about "fleas" and "jabs". Oh, the Hedwig Hat really exists! At the Sugarquill.net, there's a running gag about how Ginny is obsessed with socks which I don't get at all. Of course, a Terra fanfic is not complete without at least one dream sequence! I use dreams way too much. Originally, I wasn't planning on making this so touching at the end but it came out that way so I left it in. I think it works better. What did you think? Tell me via the review button or e-mail at destinyplot@lycos.com! I write back to every review and it helps if you leave your e-mail address. Thanks! See ya later!